Page 44 of Scarlet Wars
There I was. Same face, same features.
But everything about me felt foreign, as if I were staring at a ghost. My hair hung limp around my face, my skin pale, my eyes hollowed out by something deeper than exhaustion. I gripped the edge of the sink and leaned closer, searching for any sign of the girl I used to be.
How many times had I stood like this? How many nights and mornings had I stared into a mirror wondering where the hell she had gone? The girl who laughed freely, who dreamed of a future filled with light. The girl who believed in fairness and justice and love.
She was gone, lost somewhere in the blood and chaos and pain.
I swallowed hard, my breath fogging the mirror as I stared at myself. Maybe she wasn’t coming back. Maybe that girl was gone for good, but if she was, I wasn’t about to let the rest of me go down with her.
“This will not defeat me,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “I will survive this.”
The words didn’t fix me. They didn’t mend the cracks or fill the void, but they settled something inside me. A tiny ember of defiance that refused to go out.
I peeled off my clothes and let them fall in a careless heap on the floor. The shower hissed to life, and I stepped into the scalding spray. The water hit like fire, stinging my skin until it felt raw, but I didn’t move. I welcomed the burn. Let it strip me clean.
Heat poured over me, beating down until the world narrowed to nothing but steam and water and the thrum of my own pulse. The grime, the blood, the weight of days spent rotting in grief… All of it slid away in rivulets. For a few precious minutes, I wasn’t Emma the Offensive, Emma the survivor. I was just…a body under water. Existing.
I had surrendered to the darkness for weeks, letting it seep into me, bone-deep. I hadn’t fought it. I’d invited it in. Let it coil around my ribs, drown my lungs, thread itself through every shaky breath.
And I hadn’t wanted to climb back out. Not really.
On some level, I’d been waiting for it to finish the job. To take me under completely. No more fight. No more grief. No more anything.
Because it felt like whatever fight I’d had left bled out with my parents’ lives, leaving me hollow, gutted, and tired down to my soul.
But darkness wasn’t silence, it was a language I could learn.
As I stood beneath the blistering water, something shifted. The numbness I’d veiled myself in had been safe. It gave me the illusion of control in a life where I had clearly none. And it had kept me from making alcoholism my next great calling.
But it wasn’t enough. I neededpurpose.
And most of all, I needed answers.
Answers to questions that pulsed louder than the pain. Who ordered my parents’ deaths? Who pulled the strings that put a warrant on my head? Why brand me a terrorist in the first place?
And for the first time since the night they died, air filled my lungs without crushing me. Not because the ache was gone, but because the ache was starting to have some direction. I didn’t need to crawl out of the darkness. I could shape it. Use it. Hone it sharp enough to carve my way to the truth.
For a second, one of my favorite Oscar Wilde’s quotes flashed through my mind:the truth is rarely pure and never simple.
But for once, I didn’t agree with him. Someone was responsible, and I would find them. Seemed pretty fucking simple to me.
By the time I stepped out, my skin was raw, my hair dripping, but I felt…different.
Lighter, maybe.
Darker, probably.
Or simply more awake.
I wrapped a towel around myself and pushed open the bathroom door. Sean and James were both waiting for me, leaning against the wall like two sentinels. Sean’s arms were crossed, his jaw tight, while James looked more composed but no less concerned.
I raised an eyebrow at them, clutching the towel tighter. “Do I require an audience to get dressed?”
Sean stood straighter. “We wanted to make sure ye were okay.”
James nodded, scanning my face as though he was trying to read my mind. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing past them toward the bed. I grabbed a fresh set of clothes, the towel slipping to the floor as I dressed quickly. Their gaze averted, the silence heavy, but Ididn’t acknowledge either until I was done. Turning back to face them, I crossed my arms.
